The Teenager and Sherlock
by ChurchRoofGirl
Summary: Sherlock and John have to care for John's teenage niece. How will all three fare? K  to be on the safe side, but probably nothing that rude or innapropriate.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"I'm working."  
>"Sherlock."<br>"Not now, John. I'm working."  
>"Sherlock! This is important."<br>Sherlock looked up from the microscope disdainfully. "What?" he spat.  
>"Harry has been hospitalised."<br>"OK. Goodbye."  
>John could have screamed. "SHERLOCK! Look, I don't mind if you don't care about my sister. But her daughter has nowhere to go, and since I'm her only uncle who doesn't live in a bachelor pad in Ibiza, we're taking her."<br>"This is a bachelor pad."  
>"In Westminster. There's a difference, Sherlock. Anyway, if you're not civil to her, I will chop up all your pickled arms and burn them."<br>Sherlock sulked.

After a while, when John had sat down with the newspaper, considering the conversation closed for the moment, Sherlock said, "What's her name?"  
>"Laurinda Magdalene Parnel Watson."<br>"What?"  
>"There's French in us."<br>"So of course, your mother decided to name you John."  
>"Only Harry really acknowledges it. I mean, if I were to ever have children, I'd call them something English. George, perhaps."<br>"You'd make a good father, John," murmured Sherlock.  
>"What?" John looked up, surprised.<br>Sherlock coughed. "Nothing. How old is she?"  
>"14, Harry said. She'll be raging with hormones and we'll need to buy cider."<br>"Cider? At your age? John, really."  
>"No, for her."<br>"You're going to give a child cider?"  
>"She's not a child, Sherlock. Do you know anything about teenagers?"<br>"No. I think I bypassed that stage."  
>"Wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, she arrives tomorrow."<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Please no more story favourites/alerts without reviews. It's very annoying to know that you like it but not why, and also not to know what I need to work on. _

Chapter 2

The taxi drew up and they got in. As soon as they drove away, Sherlock was full of questions. "What will she call me?"  
>"Sherlock, I imagine."<br>"And what will she call you?"  
>"Uncle John."<br>"When was the last time you saw her?"  
>"Ages. Can't remember."<br>"Do _you_ know anything about teenagers?"  
>"No, not really!" They giggled.<p>

The cab drew up by a large children's home. "There we are. You stay here, Sherlock."  
>John pressed the doorbell. A little pause, then a pinched and judgmental-looking woman opened the door.<br>"Hi," said John, "I'm here for Laurinda."  
>"You better come into my office," said the woman, raising an eyebrow.<p>

"Tea?"  
>John blushed, then felt twice as embarrassed for blushing. "No, thanks."<br>"Hmm. Anyway, I'm sure there's no problem with you taking Laurinda today. But Dr Watson, can you actually look after a child?"  
>John nodded. "Yeah. We've got the space, I love her- she's my niece, after all- and I can't imagine it being anything more than a temporary arrangement."<br>"That's where you're wrong, Dr Watson. Laurinda's mother was hospitalized for alcoholism. We legally can't return her to her mother."  
>"Ah."<br>"Is that a problem? I thought it was made clear."  
>John quickly realised that if he didn't take in his niece she would go to foster family. "Yes, yes, of course. I knew that."<br>"Good. Right, I'll just get her."  
>"Is there anything I should know before I meet her?"<br>"You grew up with her mother, yes? I don't think there's much you really need to know."

Laurinda stepped through the door and sat down next to John. "We need to go," he said, "I've got a taxi running outside."  
>"OK- you've signed all the forms, so you're good to go," said the social worker.<p>

As they walked to the taxi John looked at Laurinda. She had enormous brown eyes hidden behind thick round glasses. Her hair was long and brown, and in a long French pleat down her back. She had a blue and white horizontal striped top and a long wool skirt. John had read somewhere that all these were reliable indicators of her being a 'hipster'.  
>"Know anywhere good to get a cappuccino, Uncle John?"<br>Oh, thank God, he thought, I'm Uncle John. "Yeah, there's a great place right next to the flat."  
>"Cool."<p>

They got in the taxi. Laurinda looked immediately to Sherlock. "Who's this?" she demanded.  
>John held his breath. Oh hell. He completely forgot to mention Sherlock. "Sherlock."<br>"OK, Uncle John. That's cool with me, I mean, mum's..."  
>"No! Sorry. I'm not gay. Dunno about Sherlock-"<br>"I'm married to my work," cut in Sherlock.  
>"OK," said Laurinda.<br>There was a pause.  
>"He's a detective," said John.<br>"The world's only consulting detective," Sherlock added.  
>"Cool," murmured Laurinda.<br>The rest of the journey was silent.


	3. Chapter 3

_DO NOT story/author alert/favourite without reviewing, please. It's really annoying. _

Chapter 3

John watched Laurinda closely as she inspected her new house. She looked around before sitting on the sofa and spreading her limbs across it. "Where's the remote?" she said.  
>John frowned. "We don't have a TV."<br>She glared at him. "Fine. That's cool."

**LATER THAT DAY  
><strong>Sherlock ran his hands through his hair. "JOHN!" he yelled.  
>Laurinda came in. "Uncle John's gone out," she murmured.<br>Sherlock nodded. "OK. _That's fine_."  
>"You sure? You look like you've sat on a hot coal and forgot you were naked."<br>Sherlock scowled. "No, it's not. Why won't the dead bloody die?" he said, the last part more to himself (or the brain on the chopping board in front of him). Laurinda suddenly looked intrigued.  
>"Can I see the body?" she asked.<br>"No. That's the point. He's not dead."  
>"So why are you investigating?"<br>"Because he is dead!"  
>"You just said he isn't."<br>"It's like this. Man enters house. Man goes to bed. Woman wakes up next morning, finds man dead. Runs downstairs. Police arrive. Body is nowhere to be seen. Man later sighted calling from a phone box three miles from house. Woman swears she saw her husband dead, lying next to her."  
>"So someone planted the body?"<br>Sherlock snorted. "Well, no! Of course. But why?"  
>"Dunno. Got any milk?"<p>

John knocked on the door. No reply. "Laurinda?" he said, softly.  
>No reply. "Laurinda?" he said, a little louder.<br>No reply.  
>"Laurinda?" he said, in his normal voice.<br>Nothing. "OK, I'm coming in."  
>Laurinda was sitting on her bed, surrounded by papers. She had headphones in her ears and faced away from John. He tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and removed the earbuds, a faint tish-tish-tish emanating from them. "Sorry, Uncle John."<br>"That's OK. Sherlock and I are going out. We might not be back for a long time, but if we're not back by eight or nine tomorrow, call me. You've got my number?"  
>"Yeah."<br>"Good. And you'll call me if you need anything?"  
>"Yeah."<br>"OK. Don't stay up too late."  
>"No."<br>"OK. Mrs Hudson will be here. What have you got there?" he pointed to the papers around her.  
>"History revision. I've got my mocks coming up."<br>John wondered what mocks were as he closed the door of Baker Street.


	4. Chapter 4

_Review, please! I find it so much more easy to write a good story.  
>I've got something big coming up for the characters. Watch this space. All I'll say is...neigh!<br>_

Chapter 4

The taxi hummed.  
>Sherlock looked out of one window.<br>John looked out of another.  
>"Aren't teenagers meant to be loud?" said John.<br>"She asked about the case."  
>"The man who's dead but not dead?"<br>"Yeah. She lost interest quickly."  
>"See, that's what I mean. She seems bright enough, but she doesn't say anything. I didn't see her all day!"<br>Sherlock shrugged. The taxi pulled up outside the Met headquarters. "Your guess is as good as mine, John."

Lestrade entered the room energetically. "I think we've cracked it!" he exclaimed.  
>He tossed a file in front of Sherlock. "There. Have a look at that."<br>Sherlock glanced over it.  
>"No."Anderson scowled. "What?"<br>"All this information is completely wrong. What's your source?"  
>"Family friend!" exclaimed Anderson, "Close, stayed with them for two months last year!"<br>"And died two weeks later! Check your records!"  
>Lestrade looked at Donovan. She sighed and walked out. Lestrade returned to Sherlock. "How do you know?"<br>Sherlock smiled. John, who found all the officers quite irritating, enjoyed it when Sherlock looked smug. It usually meant that he was about to do that thing where he expressed his streams of thought, very quickly. John liked it when he did that.  
>"Man's in his thirties, right? Wife, two children, nice job, stable, good pay. Why would he die? Illness? No, there was a post-mortem. Murder? No motive, no opportunity, no means, no evidence. Suicide? Why, though? Always been happy, no history of mental illness. So no reason for him to be dead in the first place. But then we realise he's not dead-"<br>"What, so you actually think the sighting was him?" scoffed Anderson.  
>"Who else would it be? Have you been listening at all, Anderson?" continued Sherlock, "Anyway, he's dead, but not dead. What did he do with the body? The clue: his heritage. Man grew up a Romany gypsy. Born in Mongolia, somewhere near the Strait of China. <em>He's a naturalised British citizen, what's that got to do with it? <em>Got a better offer. Too enticing was the thought of living like a king in Mongolia, he goes back to live with his family. Gypsy blood, running through his veins. Never left him. Not wanting to hurt his wife by saying 'Oh, sorry, love, but Swindon's not romantic enough!', he fakes his own death to go back to his family and heritage."  
>Donovan came in. "David Anderson died 10 months ago, I'm afraid. Freak's right."<br>Sherlock looked smugly at them all. John chuckled to himself.

The next morning, John awoke at eight to see Laurinda eating a bowl of coco pops, a book propped up on her knees, in her pyjamas. He frowned. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"  
>She shrugged. "I don't go to school."<br>"You said you have a mock coming up."  
>"I do. Open University history GCSE."<br>"You're going to school."  
>"No I'm not."<br>"Yes."  
>"No."<br>"Yes!"  
>"No." John was getting annoyed. She wasn't.<br>"You're already enrolled at the local comp."  
>"No I'm not."<br>"Yes you are. They asked me if I was the father and I had to say that we didn't know your dad in front of a crowd of judgmental mothers."  
>Laurinda looked up. "Send me to school if you want, Uncle John. I won't struggle. But you'll learn that me and school don't mix."<br>John sighed. "Right. Good. Get your clothes on- I put them on your bed."

Two hours later, John was called to the school.  
>The headmistress sat at her desk, and didn't really fit. Rolls of fat spilled over the top and over the side of her trousers. She had countless chins. "Dr. Watson, please sit down."<br>Laurinda sat in the chair next to him. She smiled. He smiled back, then realised where he was and why, and gave her a stern frown. "Dr. Watson," she began, "It is not usual for  
>us to expel pupils on their first day, but we are doing this because we really don't think that Laurinda is quite right for conventional education."<br>"Why, what's she done?"  
>Laurinda rolled her eyes. "What haven't I done?"<br>The headmistress coughed nervously. "Yes, well. The day didn't...well, start very well. You see, Laurinda was assigned a 'shepherd'- a teaching assistant to show them the ropes. After half an hour of a tour of the school, the assistant concerned was found desperately treading water in the pool."  
>"I didn't like her. She was patronising. She was going to demonstrate the pool later anyway."<br>The headmistress went on. "She was then sent to her next lesson-"  
>"Frogmarched," coughed Laurinda.<br>"Maths. Which she promptly walked out of."  
>"I needed the loo."<br>"At break, she tried to leave the grounds."  
>"I saw an ice-cream van selling Fabs. I haven't had a Fab in ages."<br>"So you see, Dr. Watson, I don't think Laurinda will be returning to the school. Or any school, for that matter."  
>John nodded. "I will punish Laurinda myself. I'm terribly sorry for wasting your time. Come on, Laurinda." He placed a hand on her back and pushed her through the reception and out the gates. When he got into the taxi, however, he grinned. Then he was hysterical with laughter. Tears streamed down his face.<br>Laurinda looked bemused. "What?"  
>"You're so like Harry!"<br>Laurinda shrugged.

After he had regained control of himself, John thought seriously for a minute. "Have you ever been to school?" he said quietly.  
>She looked away for a long time. "I tried nursery. I bit the teacher. Then mum home schooled me. Then she went into hospital and I was sent to Summerhill."<br>"Isn't that where you don't have to go to class?"  
>"Yeah. It's pretty cool. I was fine for two years, but then I fell in with a bad crowd. They started to..." She trailed off. Then she pulled up her dress sleeve to reveal a long scar that ran from her elbow to just below her wrist.<br>John recoiled.  
>"I reported them at every school meeting, but I didn't have any evidence. They told me to keep a diary. I didn't tell them I was illiterate."<br>"How old were you?"  
>"10. I learnt to read and write when mum went back to homeschooling me after I said that I wasn't staying in a place where they were using chicken wire to get my lunch money."<p>

John looked at his knees, humbled. Then, tentatively, he reached out an arm and stretched it round her shoulder. She leaned in slightly and they had an awkward hug.  
>"Thanks, Uncle John."<br>"That's fine, Laurinda."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry it's very quickly after I published the last chapter, but all your reviews inspired me. Thank you once again to jack63kids and all my other reviewers._

Chapter 5

"Hello?"  
>"Laurinda."<br>"Uncle John? It's..." a hand reached out of a duvet and pulled the alarm clock on the bedside table round. "3 in the morning? What's up?"  
>"I need you to stay calm, Laurinda."<br>"Why?"  
>"I'm going to come and pick you up. In the meantime, I need you to pack a suitcase. I need you get a pistol from Sherlock's drawers. Put that in your pocket. Pack warm, light clothes, three pairs. Pack boots. Pack a toothbrush and toothpaste. Pack anything else you need. I'll be half an hour. Don't panic, OK? It's fine."<br>"Uncle John?" she said. But he'd already hung up.

Half an hour later, John arrived in a taxi. "I need to get some things. Get in and keep calm, OK?"  
>A little while later, John came out and they drove away.<br>"Gonna tell me what's going on?" said Laurinda after a while.  
>"We need to go to Mongolia. You're coming with us. Sorry."<br>"Mongolia? Is this a joke? Nobody actually goes to Mongolia. It's a comic-book country."  
>"Apparently not. I'm sorry, but we have to go. It's for a case."<br>"Why didn't you leave me with a baby sitter or something?"  
>"I don't know how long we'd be gone. And I don't think babysitters can raid the fridge for two weeks."<br>Laurinda shrugged and he stared out of the window again.

As they approached the Met Headquarters, Laurinda turned to John again. "So by 'we', who do you mean?"  
>"Well, me, you, Sherlock, obviously, and Lestrade and Anderson."<br>"I know that Anderson's the prick, but who's Lestrade?"  
>"He works for the police. He's all right, really."<br>Laurinda nodded. They pulled up outside the headquarters and Sherlock, Lestrade and Anderson got in the taxi, which with five people and their luggage was crowded and stuffy. "Anderson's been drinking gin," murmured Laurinda. Everyone turned to her.  
>"What?" Anderson was aghast, "I have not!"<br>Laurinda shrugged. "Try having an alcoholic for a mother. Really _opens your eyes_."  
>Sherlock, who was sitting across from her and squashing Lestrade, sniggered.<p>

The plane rose from the ground. Laurinda was reminded of a poem they read at Summerhill.  
><em>Oh, let us slash the shackles that tie us<br>__To this dry and mortal earth.  
><em>_And oh, let us rise, rise,  
><em>_From this tired and dying earth._


End file.
